The Bee-holders Eye

Beauty, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder.   Well, at least maybe someone once said it.  ProfessorRoush certainly can't take credit for the ungainly phrase, obviously espoused as an argumentative gauntlet to those who hold that there are objective standards for beauty upon which all living creatures would agree.  Such arguments often trend to discussions of symmetry and purity and perfection, and inevitably dissolve into fisticuffs and sometimes wars that involve hollow wooden horses, and I know better than to blunder into such an argument  in my garden.

Take, for example, my impressions this morning during the weekly chore of making the grasses and weeds all conform to one height.  I would have said that the most beautiful view of my garden this morning was at the corner of the bed pictured above, where Hibiscus 'Midnight Marvel' dominates the view with massive bright red blooms, accentuated by the pink-purple panicles of the neighboring Buddleia 'Buzz Raspberry.'   I've spoken before of my admiration for 'Midnight Marvel', a reliable and iron-clad perennial that makes its own statement in the garden, but I have said little about 'Buzz® Velvet,' the only remaining Buddleia of my garden, still reliably returning while others eventually withered or outright died in their prime.   I'm not fond of the color of this buddleia itself, but beside the cardinal red of the hibiscus, it certainly adds to the scene, doesn't it?

The bees of my garden however, honey and bumble alike, do not agree with my assessment, as they were busily buzzing over volunteer natives, the Argemone polyanthemos, or Prickly Poppy, growing nearby and they didn't touch the hibiscus or buddleia.   Every delicate white (papier-mâché, as Wikipedia and the French refer to it) flower was being visited nearly continually by one species or another, and a continual symphony of bee noises was evident even over the noise of the nearby idling lawn mower.  This is the very reason that I allow this ungainly and thorny plant to grow randomly in my garden; for the selfish reward of happy bees and the illusion of my own contribution to bee survival.

I was certainly not going to be stupid and argue with the bees over their perceptions of beauty today, as my photographic interruption to their gluttony had already upset the buzzing minions and I suspected they were forming ranks and preparing to counter my intrusion and biased human opinions.   No, I removed myself from the battlefield, ceding the question of beauty to their ageless wisdom.  Heck, I even somewhat agree with them, for the pure white of the Prickly Poppy is certainly as beautiful and perfect in its own way as the red Hibiscus.   Beauty in the compound eyes of another.

Both myself and the bees, however, would have been in philosophic conflict with the Japanese Beetles who are still plaguing my garden and dining on their own candidates for "beauty", the roses and early crape myrtles.  I sprayed the roses again day for beetles, praying that the bees stay on the Prickly Poppy and don't try for any rose pollen.   I will spare you a photo of the vile fornicating beetles today, and instead merely show you how close the Prickly Poppy is to 'Buzz Raspberry' and 'Midnight Marvel' in this bed.  I apologize for the poor tonal quality of this picture taken in the full late July sun of Kansas and for the crabgrass and weeds visible, but sometimes beauty is hidden by its environment and a little lighting and makeup can make all the world of difference in a photograph as well as in person.

The World Needs More Pussy Willows

Beautiful day today here, high of 66ºF, bright and sunny.  I couldn't get outside and away from my day job to enjoy it, but certainly it looks a little more like spring each day.

I did take a moment tonight to visit my now-three-year-old Salix caprea ‘Curly Locks’, the white French Pussy Willow.  She is just coming into bloom and was summoning me from the house down to the garden as she reflected the golden waves of the evening sunshine.






My surprise tonight, though, was that upon drawing close to her, I realized that the Pussy Willow is a draw for what seems like every bee for miles.  If you click on the pictures, above and here to the right, you should see several either on a bloom or buzzing around the air.  A relative swarm, and much earlier in the year than I usually see any bees running around.










For that reason, and that reason alone, I must find and plant more Pussy Willows this year.  Given the current state of bee survival, anything I can do to find them quick spring nourishment is not only my pleasure, it's my duty for the garden.   I only have one Pussy Willow right now, but I now realize that I need more.  Lots more.

Salix caprea 'Curly Locks'

Bee-careful Out There

Such oblivious creatures, we Homo sapiens, we naked apes of tools and dreams.  We trod through millennia, intent on food, shelter, and water, occasionally motivated to art or to walk on the Sea of Tranquility, yet unknowing of the intricacies of the surrounding world, incapable of recognizing life on different scales than our own.  Civilized human-kind conveniently forgets the constant struggle of life at large.

ProfessorRoush has spent the past few days capturing flower photos, digitally preserving the blooms of 2018, as happy to welcome summer as an otter discovering a brisk stream.  I was seemingly, in fact, entranced this week by honey bees, happy to see them out and about, thrilled to know they haven't all disappeared into extinction.   A noon walk to the K-State Gardens on Thursday brought me green tranquility and the simplicity of the bee above, ensconced on a single bloom of Rosa eglanteria.  Later, I was drawn into the massive bounty of a full-grown and trellised 'William Baffin' and enticed further into the blooming mass (at left)  to capture another industrious worker strutting around its food source.



At home that night, however, I was starkly reminded of the dark side of bee life.  I had just noticed this motionless and soundless bee on 'Polareis' and began to look closer when it suddenly moved beneath the flower, all without wiggling a wing or leg.  Perplexed, I changed my perspective and exposed the true tableau, the bee expired and in the grasp of a victorious crab spider.   It is tempting at such times, to judge the spider as evil, but more correct to recognize merely life as it is, sometimes brutish and quick, unaffected by how we wish it to be.  I suppose the spider has its own reason to exist, just as the bee.  It's just that I like to root for the bee.




This is the real life of my garden.  I think only of flowers and prunings, mulch and plant combinations. To the bee, each flower could be nectar or death, each flight from the hive success or oblivion.  For the spider, each day may bring feast or hunger, no guarantees beneath the sunniest skies.  I've forgotten again the drama beneath, the life of a garden in constant flux, predator after prey, ultimately death for all.

Now reminded, I still am rooting for the bees.